Republic Commando: Civilian Interlude
by Ms.MaraJade
Summary: Inspired by the Karen Traviss RepCom novels. RC-1168, Dusty, of Crimson Squad is sent on a mission to retrieve vital information. Companion piece to my story, “Republic Commando: Knight of Honor.” Rated T to be safe.
1. Prologue

_Author's Notes_: In Chapter 9 of _Republic Commando: Knight of Honor_, Dusty confesses to Jas about why his communications had failed on the night of their information retrieval mission on Denon, and _Civilian Interlude_ is that missing back-story.

**I apologize in advance if this tale is not in strict adherence to specific canons. I had done my research but decided to write the story with a certain degree of artistic license.** As always, I gratefully accept constructive criticism as a means to help me develop my skills further as a writer.

_Summary_: RC-1168 (Dusty) of Crimson Squad is sent on a mission to retrieve vital information. (Companion piece to my story, "Republic Commando: Knight of Honor") Rated T to be safe.

_Disclaimer_: I make no money, and I only write about what I enjoy. Crimson Squad, Cerina Browlin, Reone, Gan Pohin, and the opening segment quotes are mine. Arlington Zey and Bardan Jusik belong to Karen Traviss. George Lucas owns everything else.

**Republic Commando: Civilian Interlude**

**Prologue**

_I'll send Crimson Squad. If this does turn out to be a trap of some kind, Crimson is the best at bending and twisting their orders. If anyone can find their way out of a tough position and find convincing loopholes, they're the squad for the mission_.  
Jedi General Arlington Zey, Special Operations Brigade

**The City of Sha'ye on the Planet Denon  
687 Days ABG (After the Battle of Geonosis)**

I take the small container of perfume and look at the ornate glass bottle for a moment remembering that it was his favorite scent. I spray the first of it on my wrists, and I think about how one could not truly say we were in love. We were more like stars crashing, our relationship an explosion of emotions and desires. I was a fantasy he hired for a night to help him forget about his stresses and his long-regretted decisions. However, I'll never forget how he was bewildered by my youthfulness, despite my insistence that I was of legal age to provide his necessities. That first night, he gave me the chance to prove my boasting, but it was I who was taken aback by his touch. I had prepared myself for an abrupt encounter with him and a quick evening because I knew I was not what he had in mind for the night's entertainment. Instead, I was attracted to the gentle command of his touch and was intoxicated by the honesty in his eyes. To liken it as magic would make an unfair cliché out of our experience.

After that night, though, he had decided to resume with my services, and he worked out a schedule to continue visiting the establishment, personally requesting me for each of his appointments. Over time, I found in our interludes that I had begun to need him as a way to fulfill my own desires and fantasies, and sometimes the line blurred between which of us was the client and which of us was the professional.

In the course of our time together, he grew to trust me and confide in me, despite his insistence that our encounters remain secret. He warned me that he had gained many enemies, and in order to ensure my safety, we could never be boastful of our consistent meetings. I abided by his wishes because as we continued to share our time together, it was becoming obvious that our encounters were less about our physical needs and more about the confessions of our pasts, the admittance of mistakes for which we needed absolution.

I had told him about why I ran away from a father who was drinking himself to death and a mother who was blind to the unhappiness of her marriage. He, in turn, told me of the childhood that had been stripped from him due to tragedy and murder. I summarized to him about my struggles to find work so I could at least eat, and he had described the lives he had taken and the dangers he had withstood to earn his keep in society. I explained how I came to be at the establishment and that they were willing to take me in and give me a home and consistent meals, provided I allowed them to take a percentage of my earnings in order for them to cover the debts I had incurred. He showed compassion to my plight and eventually gave me a better understanding about how to manage my financial burdens.

When he spoke of the clones that were created in his likeness and would know nothing but war, battle tactics, and be denied the experience of a long life, he had no remorse for their existence, citing that their creation was merely a business decision. I told him that I didn't understand how he could not feel anything for these millions of beings that were identical images of him. He had replied that the ones who would become soldiers were not his concern because his compassion lied within the scientific creation of a single son that he had demanded be included as part of that business arrangement. In that moment, I confessed to him how I had never considered a future, especially not with a child of any creation because it was just too outlandish in my line of work to envision. His pity for me seemed to be genuine at that concept, and he assured me that taking a child to protect and teach was a great responsibility that should not be taken lightly.

I will always remember how in the dark serenity of our interludes, he proudly spoke of the accomplishments his son was making and his regrets for leaving him for long periods at a time. I listened with heartfelt compassion, thinking that maybe one day the precious gift of a child to raise might be mine also, especially if such a man would be there to help guide my child-rearing decisions.

When he wasn't talking about his son, however, he would sometimes detail the gruesome tests and trials that these clones of him were expected to undergo on a daily basis, and he spoke approvingly of the ones that had done above expectations. The ones that did not survive, he shrugged off as the ones who required better training or were just the simple misfortunes in warfare games. What I had kept hidden from him in those moments was how my heart began to break for these genetic children of his and their unfair lives.

With every confession he entrusted to me, my fondness for him had grown because I saw a fallible and simple man, not the mercenary and bounty hunter who returned to my quarters for the release of his tensions. Eventually, my services to him were more about compassion than they were about passion. The explosions between us were always there, but they had only grown more intense with every conversation we shared.

I cannot say for certain when, because time grew so blurred, but eventually I had become something of a secretive and permanent part of his life. He took it upon himself to see that one day we would share more than scheduled interludes, but there was the matter of concluding his business with the Separatists first.

In the meantime, he had bought out my contract from the establishment where I had signed away my life until my debts would be paid in full. He then closed out the debts I had incurred in my foolish and inexperienced youth, sealing the pathway from me ever having to return to those forlorn days. He had a new identity created for me, a new life where I would be a respectable citizen. My new persona was provided with comfortable wealth, and he taught me how to manage those finances so that I would never want for anything again.

Most beings thought of Jango Fett as a mercenary, a hired thug, but he was my second chance. He saved me from myself, and I think at some point we did grow to love each other, even if being in love was too far-fetched for the likes of a former courtesan and a bounty hunter who kept to himself and his profession.

And now I want nothing more than the closure I need, a chance to say farewell to him. The news of his careless beheading in a Geonosian battle arena so many months ago had shattered me to my very soul. The plans he set in motion would never come to be now, and the son who he never had the opportunity to introduce to me had disappeared from existence. I tried for nearly a year to find that special cloned child of Jango, to tell him that he had an open door to safety and compassion. But, when there was no indication that he had survived, I decided to do what I could elsewhere.

I sought whatever information I could find on the other clones of Jango, the ones used to make the Grand Army of the Republic, and eventually I was offered the chance to stop a plot that was being devised against them on my own world. I had decided that if I could help them, then I would consider it my opportunity to finally say goodbye to Jango. I know he would not have wanted me involved in such business, but it would provide me the closure I needed to appreciate everything he had done to turn a lost soul like me into a woman of status.

Spraying the last of the perfume on the strategic sections of my skin, I set the bottle back on the dresser and give my attire a final once-over. I'm no longer the woman who spent her years in an establishment selling fantasies to paying clients. I now live under the identity of Cerina Browlin, the final gift that Jango was able to give me before he died, and I have a dual mission tonight. My first goal is to be sure I help stop Barl Nusset from finalizing his bio-weapon against the clones. My second goal is to say a final goodbye to Jango and make my peace with his permanent absence.


	2. Segment 1

_Disclaimer_: I make no money, and I only write about what I enjoy. Crimson Squad, Cerina Browlin, Reone, Gan Pohin, and the opening segment quotes are mine. Arlington Zey and Bardan Jusik belong to Karen Traviss. George Lucas owns everything else.

**Segment 1**

_A bio-weapon specifically designed to kill the Fett genome would be disastrous. It would wipe out the entire Clone Army, and it would be an unrivaled victory for the Separatists. If not for this Clone Army, the Republic would have been brought to its knees long ago. Barl Nusset must be stopped at all costs, and if we need to risk a commando squad to save the rest of the Army, then so be it_.  
Jedi Master Mace Windu in conference with Jedi General Arlington Zey

**The City of Sha'ye on the Planet Denon  
687 Days ABG**

Dusty picked up his _buy'ce_, the helmet that was a part of his commando armor, but he didn't move to put it on his head. He was currently dressed in the civilian outfit of a well-to-do real estate agent and knew that the _buy'ce_ would be completely out of place, plus it would only ruin the hair he spent the last hour dying and styling. His hair was now blonde, and his thick locks had not been cut short to the military buzz, as he had always preferred to keep the tangles about an inch longer than was regulation standards. His brown eyes were also hidden beneath a pair of blue contacts, and the combination of cosmetic changes had transformed him into a completely different man.

Dusty looked to the reflection panel to his right and was glad that he remembered to dye his eyebrows the same color his hair, and he decided that he would never be able to pick himself out of a lineup of his brothers as a clone. In addition to the hair and eye changes, he was now also wearing the business casual outfit of a civilian. The clothing was softer than the standard BDU's, the basic duty uniform, that he wore when not in his armor. And, the material was nothing like the temperature controlled body suit that was beneath his commando armor.

The white shirt he wore was designed like a tunic but with tightly fitting sleeves. The blue pants matched the blue-colored long coat, and he felt like some backwater politician for a moment. He was all looks and no intelligence in how to handle a society, at least that's what he thought while he gave himself a casual once-over to make sure he appeared to be a civilian. Putting the helmet on the pile that contained the rest of the armor, Dusty gave the knee-high boots a quick tug, tucking in the pants to be as comfortable as he could possibly do.

He picked up the identification chip with his false persona and set it in one of the breast pockets of his shirt. According to that small electronic device, he was now Elig Munot, who had left his home on Concord Dawn to become educated as a businessman on Coruscant. After earning a primary degree in business and a secondary degree in real estate, he then moved to Denon looking for a decent housing market where he could wheel and deal and expand his hard-earned wealth.

Eyes staring now at the helmet's T-visor, Dusty spoke to no one in particular as he studied the piece of equipment that had been his eyes and ears to the outside world since he could fit in it. "It's strange looking at it from this side."

Mouse didn't bother hiding his boredom as he rotated through his different sniper attachments by setting them in place on the DC-17 blaster and calibrating the scopes for different settings. He knew he had no target to fire upon, but at least it was keeping his hands busy and his mind occupied. He didn't like the concept of this mission. It wasn't a commando's place to do an intelligence agent's job, and he covered his fear by doing everything he could to keep his mind off of it. Snapping another scope in place and looking through the lens, he didn't even bother looking up from his work. "Being vulnerable is scary. It's why I prefer sniping."

"No," Dusty said shaking his head. "I mean I think I understand why we're such an enigma to the civvies. Don't you think we look like droids?"

"So, we're droids fighting droids. Is that it?" Gath questioned. He scratched the back of his head staring at his brother in the civilian clothing that had changed him so drastically. Gath had wondered at first why he wasn't chosen to handle this part of the mission, but as he studied Dusty, he realized that his brother had a more casual air about him and seemed almost comfortable, practically relaxed. Gath knew he'd be pulling at the collar around his neck and fussing with the sleeves on his arms, and that would end the mission before it even began. "I thought we were just taking out the bad guys. Now you're getting all philosophical on us. I think you're taking this civvie role a little too seriously."

Dusty turned from the pile of armor and the _buy'ce_ on top of it, deciding to save the philosophy for another time. Feeling a bit more lighthearted now, he told them, "Never thought I'd miss the armor, but it's rather drafty without it."

Jas stepped from the adorning room and brought forth the small comlink set they had been provided by their superiors. He gave his brother the once-over and merely raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He wasn't certain what to think of Dusty. Part of him wanted to laugh at how _not_ Dusty he looked and another part of him was terrified about what could happen to him if anything in this mission went wrong. He still didn't understand why one of the ARCs, an Advanced Recon Commando, wasn't assigned this part of the mission. It simply would have made more sense because ARCs are more adept at blending in and dealing with the general public.

"_Ner vod_, it's summer," Jas told him trying to let his light-hearted nature override the fear in his eyes that Dusty didn't need to see from him. "You may be daft but you're not drafty."

Dusty laughed at his brother's teasing while he took from Jas the earbud and placed it so it was hidden in his ear canal. Then he secured what looked like a decorative button on the left lapel of his long coat. The button contained the tiny pick up microphone that would transmit conversations back to Crimson as they remained safely holed up in their hideout. "Touché, _ner vod_. That was well said."

"Just get what we need and get back safe," Gath sighed, giving his brother a squeeze on his shoulder. "The sooner we get Nusset eliminated, the sooner they might give us a mission more suitable to our skills."

Dusty started for the door but stopped to give his brothers one last look, "Gath, you should have been the Republic's motivator. With speeches like that, you'd have the entire galaxy in your hand."

Leaving his brothers behind in the small apartment, Dusty mentally rehearsed the script he was told to use by the old woman in the hangar who was strangely dressed in a flight suit that was far too baggy for her. The darkened goggles she wore over her eyes were far too clumsy for her face, and the hood over her head made her practically a ridiculous caricature of a homeless waif, but she had given them explicit instructions on how to find the informant who possessed the necessary intel they needed to take out Nusset. So, he decided that what the crazy old bag looked like didn't really matter as long as her information was good.

Dusty still couldn't figure out why the old woman had chosen him specifically for the meeting with this supposed informant. All she told them was that he was to meet with a woman named Cerina Browlin at a place called _Heart of Sha'ye_ at exactly 19:15 in the evening, and that he was to introduce himself to the host in charge using several lines in a script that had to match exactly. If Dusty were to make any erroneous remarks or improvise around the script, he would lose the opportunity for Browlin to come forth and provide Nusset's latest location. The old woman insisted that this was the safest way to prevent the Separatists from discovering the identity of the informant.

As Dusty approached the restaurant, he was momentarily taken in by a large, bright building. It was decorated in marble spires loosely covered by ornate vines with small pink flowers. The vines were twisted in patterns along the pillars almost seeming to be crawling and climbing higher to the top. Two large, plexi-glass doors were covered in sheer white curtains, and as Dusty pulled one of the doors open, the curtain swirled around the entrance like some kind of cloud, beckoning him into the restaurant.

Dusty took a quiet breath, knowing that he was about to step into a different world, the one that catered to the more upscale clientele. For at least the sixth time this evening, he wondered why in the seven hells a squad commando had been recruited to do a job that should have been given to an intelligence agent or at least an ARC. Then again, Dusty never did always understand orders, even if he followed them for the most part. He was better at twisting them into the situation rather than following them word for word like many of the other clones would do. It was one of the reasons the Kaminoans especially hated him, but as long as he could keep proving within good reason why he chose the course of action he had, he usually didn't get too severely punished. He practically was a one-man Reject Squad and sometimes he felt sorry that his brothers were stuck with him. Then again, it occurred to Dusty that sending him on this particular mission was the GAR's way of getting rid of him. He had always been accused of being a loose cannon, and he was the real reason Crimson had become the Reject Squad. Maybe tonight, the GAR would have its wish come true and Dusty, RC-1168, would no longer exist.


	3. Segment 2

_Disclaimer_: I make no money, and I only write about what I enjoy. Crimson Squad, Cerina Browlin, Reone, Gan Pohin, and the opening segment quotes are mine. Arlington Zey and Bardan Jusik belong to Karen Traviss. George Lucas owns everything else.

**Segment 2**

_I know the Kaminoans told you to think of the female gender as men but with different anatomy. Keep in mind that women are not as simple as the aiwha-bait wants you to believe. Don't be afraid of females, but don't underestimate them either. You may come across some in your experiences who are genuine and you may come across others who will hustle you out of your Deece and your armor. The safest way to handle them is to think with your brain, not your head_.  
Training Sergeant, Gan Pohin, in discussion with his men after a question posed about how to handle females during missions

**The City of Sha'ye on the Planet Denon  
687 Days ABG**

Glancing quickly around the restaurant, Dusty had the basic layout of the floor memorized. There was a circular-shaped bar in the center of the facility lightly occupied with members of different species. The tables around the bar were mostly empty, a sign that the timeframe known as "happy hour" had ended. Private booths were outside the bar area, planted against the walls. They were heavily occupied, indicating that the time for meal socializing had begun, and the time for alcohol socializing was winding down.

In the brief seconds that Dusty viewed the restaurant layout, he also noticed that every one of the different species carried a sophisticated air about them. No one exhibited any sense of being hard-luck or downtrodden, and it was likely that such lower-classed clientele would never have been permitted past the entrance doors. The _Heart of Sha'ye_ had a reputation to uphold for the more wealthy members of society, and it was fairly obvious that only those in such a tax bracket were the ones taking part in enjoying the beverages and dishes the restaurant offered.

Walking up to the host of the restaurant, Dusty remembered that in this kind of upscale establishment, the host would actually be referred to with the extravagant title of _maître d'hôtel_. It was the useless fact Dusty needed in order to force aside the thoughts of his possible imminent death and how his brothers in Crimson would be free from his need to break and bend rules. Clearing his mind into the role he now had to play, Dusty had internally morphed himself into the kind of person he believed Elig Munot would be.

Executing a charming smile, he thought of the charismatic hero he saw in a recent holofilm and did his best to imitate that character. He realized that he didn't know much about civvies, but he certainly had enough practice with observing them long enough to follow basic body language.

"May I help you?" the _maître d'hôtel_ asked. He was quite a rotund man and as he spoke, his red cheeks seemed to grow redder with every word he exhaled. He looked like he was about to suffer from cardiac arrest at any moment, and the expensive, black jacket he wore seemed almost too tight for his body mass. The _maître d'hôtel_'s balding head was littered with long, dark strands that he had desperately tried to brush over his scalp to hide the missing hair, and Dusty had vowed right then that he would shave his head hairless when he started balding instead of uselessly trying to hide it like this man was.

Forcing himself not to dwell on the strangeness of civilians and their vanity, Dusty reminded himself of the mission and spoke the first line in his script. "The private table of Cerina Browlin."

Looking up from the datapad of bookings, the rotund man gave a skeptical glare at Dusty and took a moment to detail him from head to toe. "You've never been here before, and Cerina requested she be alone this evening."

Dusty leaned over the _maître d'hôtel_'s podium and feigned looking for a list of some kind. The list he found didn't contain his false name, but he did see the full layout of the restaurant on the datapad the _maître d'hôtel_ had before him. Sticking to the script, Dusty explained, "Surely you must be mistaken. She gave me her personal invite. Tell her that Elig Munot is awaiting her presence."

In the short couple seconds that Dusty had to view the datapad of the _maître d'hôtel_, he memorized the layout of the restaurant from the datapad and had three escape routes already in motion should he need them.

"Reone!" a woman's voice suddenly called.

The rotund man spun like he had been slapped. "Madam, this…supposed Elig Munot insists that you had invited him to your dinner."

The woman approached closer, and Dusty could smell her perfume, something that resembled to him the scent of sweet flowers and berries. Bringing his eyes to her, he was taken aback by her shapely figure and the way the tightly fitted red dress had stayed on her shoulders simply by its thin straps. The skirt of the dress reached down to her shins, and the heeled but revealing shoes she wore hid nothing of her remarkably cared-for feet. Around her neck was a string of rubies twisted in a silver chain that held tight against her skin, and an additional small string hung down from the choker and dipped low toward her symmetrically rounded bosom. Dusty swallowed hard and forced his eyes up to her face, fighting the burning on his cheeks, hoping that no one else noticed it. He studied her face now, trying to determine if the brown of her eyes was genuine or a set of contacts like he wore. Her skin was light in color, seeming to be smooth, even with the small scattering of pale tan freckles that touched over her cheeks and nose. Her long, red-orange hair was twisted up in a loose bun on her head, and a handful of the wavy strands were left free as they trailed down her back and collarbone. As Dusty traced those locks with his eyes, he caught himself trapped again by the firm roundness of her womanly features.

"Reone," the woman sighed now. "Why do you insist on making a commotion every time I bring a date? Are you that jealous?"

The rotund man seemed to be stammering now. "Madam, I'm just trying to protect your interests…"

The woman closed her eyes and seemed to take a breath to calm down. When she opened them, she reached over toward the _maître d'hôtel_'s datapad and pointed toward something, her finger tapping a key to bring up a personalized message screen. "I left you his name on the list."

Dusty glanced quickly down to the datapad and saw his false name showing now on a screen that was different than what the _maître d'hôtel_ had used to read through the reservations. Either the man didn't know how to access that screen or he was feigning his stupidity because he was working with this woman and was part of the test to confirm her contact.

"My humblest of apologies, Madam Cerina," the man blurted, tapping more keys on the datapad. Then he looked to Dusty. "Master Elig, please forgive me."

Dusty nodded, remembering his last line in the pre-conceived script he was given. He flipped a Republic credit into Reone's hand as he told him, "Don't charge me for my meal, and we'll call it even."

At that, the woman linked her arm through Dusty's elbow. "I have a private booth where we can get better acquainted."

Cerina led him to a small booth in a far corner of the main restaurant floor, and as they sat at the table, Dusty studied the woman closely, not completely certain why this Cerina Browlin chose to have a meeting of such vital importance within the confines of an occupied restaurant. It was far too risky, and he didn't like the idea at all of being ambushed. Continuing to watch her as she slowly reviewed the menu on the datapad, he was aware that she seemed to be casually deciding whether she wanted the braised nerf or the bahmat steak.

"Madam Cerina," he said, wanting to get this information exchange over with so that he could get back to his brothers, "I believe you have something of importance for me."

Cerina laughed lightly and brought her eyes up from the menu. "Why the rush? You managed to get yourself a free meal, and you might as well make the best of it."

"Because…"

Closing down the menu and placing it off to the side of the table she then leaned forward and Dusty felt all of his concerns fall away as he saw the way her dress held tightly against her skin, and he suddenly feared that the straps on her dress would tear free. Swallowing hard, he realized that he wasn't sure who would be more embarrassed if that should happen, and she certainly didn't seem to notice the strain on the fabric.

"When was the last time you enjoyed, truly enjoyed, a meal anyway?" Cerina asked, taking advantage of his pause, "And, can you honestly tell me if you've ever been on a date before?"

Shaking his head to clear away whatever temptations this woman was trying to throw at him, Dusty leaned on the table in annoyance. He lowered his voice to a slight whisper so as not to arouse any suspicions of the patrons around them. "Look I'm just here for the intel that's been rumored you may have. I'll be out of your hair as soon as you give me what we need to get the job done."

Cerina narrowed her eyes, studying this soldier closely. Then, she smiled as though she was about to laugh. "I make you uncomfortable."

"Ma'am," Dusty said, biting down on his momentary slip of his training when addressing a lady, "getting pelted with shrapnel from explosions is uncomfortable. You're just being obstinate, and it's trying my patience."

"For that, you're now going to have to wait for dessert," she threatened, her voice teasing.

Dusty lowered his voice even further. "Do you even care that people are dying with every moment you waste withholding information?"

Her brown eyes flashed with anger, but she kept herself in check. Even though she spoke quietly, the edge was strong in her words. "And, is it a waste to spend one evening with a clone soldier and offer him a moment of normalcy? I know that you've been shut off from the galaxy for years, training from the day you could stand on your own. I know you have a shorted life span, and I'm certain the majority of you will never have a chance to meet a girl and even less of a chance to kiss one. I personally have no concern on who wins the war, but none of _you_ deserve to be treated like caged nerf just awaiting your slaughter. Therefore, I think the galaxy can wait a couple hours for one soldier, one man, to enjoy a decent meal with a lady and have the experience of a date."

Dusty picked up the menu in front of him almost reluctantly and began perusing the different dishes. He decided at this point to just play along. After all, he was going to receive a free meal and that was something. "So how do you know so much about clones?"

Her smile returned and she took her menu as well. "A lady is entitled to her secrets."


	4. Segment 3

_Disclaimer_: I make no money, and I only write about what I enjoy. Crimson Squad, Cerina Browlin, Reone, Gan Pohin, and the opening segment quotes are mine. Arlington Zey and Bardan Jusik belong to Karen Traviss. George Lucas owns everything else.

**Segment 3**

_I will only have the location directly given to a clone soldier, and I will not risk having a Republic agent turn rogue or sell to the highest bidder. I have my reasons for the exchange done this way in order to protect my associate's life as well as the life of your cloned soldier. If you are concerned for the well being of the soldier you send, I can assure you that he will be far safer at my associate's disposal than on any battlefield_.  
Denon informant, known only as "Shape-shifter"

**The City of Sha'ye on the Planet Denon  
687 Days ABG**

An hour later, Dusty was finishing the last of his cake and frozen cream. Cerina had ordered a small cup of whipped chok'lat that was drizzled with a red berry sauce and garnished with small, red berries along the rim of the glass.

Their dinner had consisted of different cuts of filleted nerf and a multitude of side dishes that included vegetables and sweetened bread. Cerina ate her dinner sparingly, offering Dusty anything he wanted from her plates. The soldier gladly took what he could sample, and his ravenous appetite was a combination of having never eaten so well before and just the constant hunger from his overactive metabolism due to his advanced aging.

When they had both decided that they had enough to eat, Dusty folded his napkin and placed it neatly on the tabletop, near his empty dessert plate.

"As agreed, dessert is over," he started, trying to get back to the business that had been pushed aside for the last hour while they talked about the weather, the different planets in the galaxy, and anything not related to Dusty's mission. "I believe you have information for me."

Cerina left a credit chip on the table, an untraceable but common currency. It was more than enough to cover their meals and leave a decent tip for the server that had handled their dinner.

Cerina's lips formed a small pout. "Hasn't anyone told you that it's customary for a gentleman to walk a lady home?"

Dusty felt his impatience growing now. He didn't know how much longer he would have to play this game, and it was beginning to grow old. His voice remained quiet so as to not spark any unwanted interest from the other patrons. "Madam, with all due respect, I have had enough, and I want to complete my mission. I've done everything you've asked so far."

"So, this is to be the end of it then?" she asked, her eyes flashing with pity for him and what he will never experience in his short life.

Dusty sighed quietly, regretting his earlier hasty words as he saw that she was treating him with dignity and respect rather than contempt. "Madam Cerine, I appreciate your kindness for the likes of me, truly I do, but I feel I'm being selfish and inconsiderate of my mission."

"Do you know why you were chosen to meet with me?" she asked now.

Dusty kept his eyes on her, aware of her sweetly scented perfume and how she accentuated her attractiveness to keep his attention on her. She moved one of her hands now under her chin and caught one of her twisted locks of hair between her fingertips, seeming to play with the red-orange wave absently.

"The old woman who was your initial contact can read people, and the disguise she wore will never be repeated so do not look for her again because next time she might be a man or another type of being altogether. It's how she protects herself and her gift, and she's not a Jedi or even remotely skilled like that. She just knows people and can sense things about them through body language and such. You're not the first clone she had interviewed, as there were others before you. However, out of all the others, including the other three in your squad, you showed the most interest, the most curiosity for the civilian world. When the old woman brought me into her employ to be her liaison, I had asked her for merely one request. All I wanted from whoever she had chosen to be my partner in this exchange was the opportunity to give him the experience of a date and an evening as a civilian, and I specifically requested a soldier who would not be resistant to such a concept."

"So I was the lucky clone that she felt was not going to take a blaster to you and demand you give over the information, and on the blind faith of that, you had all this arranged simply to feed my curiosity?" he asked not sure if he wanted to be angry or grateful.

Cerina folded her hands before her now and breathed softly as she nodded her head.

Dusty watched her chest expand as she inhaled, his eyes captivated for a moment by the twin curves beneath the dress. He brought his eyes quickly up to her face again and had decided that she was quite beautiful, at least by the standards that humans judge beauty on another. He truly was grateful that she didn't think she was so far above a clone soldier that she would just have given him the necessary information and sent him abruptly on his way. He had to admit that he did enjoy their meal together, even if the conversation was unrelated to anything with the mission. For an hour or so, she actually made him feel…normal, like a real civilian on a real date.

"I wanted to give you a moment in time, an opportunity to remember," she explained quietly. "You needed to know _who_ you fight for, not just what and why."

Dusty absorbed her words and thought about how she emphasized them. She wanted him to understand what an average citizen was all about, and her concern for the clones in the GAR was not commonly shared throughout the galaxy they tried to protect. But, as he looked to her and saw her honest intentions to treat him with respect and provide a sense of normalcy, he now understood what the crazy old woman saw in him. He had wanted to know what a civilian truly was and what it was like to be a part of them.

Suddenly, he reached over and took Cerina's hands in his, wanting to find some way to thank her for allowing him the opportunity to feel like a normal human and an average citizen of the Republic. "With your permission, I'd like the honor of walking you home," he told her softly.


	5. Segment 4

_Disclaimer_: I make no money, and I only write about what I enjoy. Crimson Squad, Cerina Browlin, Reone, Gan Pohin, and the opening segment quotes are mine. Arlington Zey and Bardan Jusik belong to Karen Traviss. George Lucas owns everything else.

**Segment 4**

_Since when do Clones do an intelligence agent's job? Don't Clones have enough risks on the battlefield to worry about? They've been given a shortened life and that doesn't even take into account their accelerated aging. Instead of risking more men, we should be negotiating with this supposed informant and showing the proper way to share intelligence_.  
Jedi General Bardan Jusik

**The City of Sha'ye on the Planet Denon  
687 Days ABG**

Cerina's apartment structure was subtle, nearly invisible in the row of buildings, and Dusty began to suspect that it wasn't truly where she lived but more of the web of deceit she had created to hide her true identity. In the dark, Dusty could see that the outside of the building was a light-colored material, a brick-like substance. Windows were spaced evenly at every eight feet across, and the main doors were on the bottom level. He had to assume that there were emergency escape exits on the back end of the buildings, but he wasn't entirely certain of that unless he had the opportunity to see the other side of the complex.

As Cerina opened the main door on the lower floor of the building, Dusty felt himself naturally go on edge as though he wanted his HUD and his blaster. His instincts told him that there was no danger and that no one had been trailing them because he had been watching for that and he could tell that Cerina was being cautious also. His eyes took a quick scan of the doorway, and he saw that there was no indication that anyone had breached the building.

Moving inside the well-lit foyer and stepping towards the turbo-lift chamber, Dusty came to understand that his fear wasn't because of an enemy now. It was because of the unknown, the idea that he was taking this supposed date too seriously and he would be entering a woman's apartment – a woman who was gifted with beauty and seemed to want to do everything in her capacity to give him a normal human experience.

While they waited for the turbolift chamber door to open, Dusty glanced at Cerina, and she looked to him offering a small smile. "We'll talk in the apartment."

Dusty nodded in understanding as they stepped inside the turbolift and took it to the third floor. When the door opened, Cerina led him to an apartment seven doors from the turbolift. She typed in her keycode and they moved inside the living quarters.

She set the lights to be brighter than the dim nightlight they had provided, and Dusty did a quick sweep with his eyes of the apartment. He counted one main room, but it was sectioned off to appear as a living room, a dining nook, and a kitchenette. There were two doors, and one of them was opened on the far side of the room. Dusty could see in the dimness of that room that there was the outline of a bed, which meant that the closed door was the refresher station.

The apartment had no decorations and nothing beyond simple basics, enough to make it seem as though someone lived in it, just very plainly. Again, it led Dusty to believe that it wasn't truly Cerina's living quarters, and it was a safe house set aside for her to do the actual transfer of the information.

In the seconds it took Dusty to observe and make his conclusions, Cerina had moved toward a utensil holder in the kitchenette. Picking out something that looked like a vegetable masher, she pushed carefully on part of the handle and slid open a secret compartment. A small holochip that was the size of her thumb landed on the counter. She quickly put the utensil back together and returned it to the holder. Then, she touched a button on the holo device and a small holoprojection of an underground map came to life.

"It's Nusset's bunker," she explained. "It's below the Sha'ye opera house, and he rarely comes out of it anymore. Everything he needs is brought in through vendors of the opera company. There are records on this chip of everything you'll need to show your superiors, including the full-scale map of his lair and the latest list of potential ingredients he is planning to use in his biological weapon. A database was even included giving the names of his potential buyers."

Dusty let his eyes study the schematics, wishing he had his HUD to record it in the event that something should happen to the holochip.

"Here, it's is yours," she finished as she held it out for him.

Dusty didn't think twice as he closed it down and took it from her. He knelt down and put it safely in the hidden pocket of his boot.

Cerina kept her eyes on him. "It's time for you to save your army."

Standing up, Dusty found himself unable to move right away. He knew it was his duty to turn and rush out the door to meet up with his brothers. However, before him stood a moment, an opportunity, a chance in life he knew he would never have again. If the war didn't kill him, his damn accelerated aging would.

"Ma'am…" he said, letting his voice drift away as he was not entirely certain what to say, what to do, or where to even begin with it all.

Cerina saw his hesitation and suddenly stepped forward taking the initiative of the moment he was obviously unsure about acting upon and simply pressed her lips to his.

Dusty couldn't help his uncertainty at her unpredictable actions, but after a moment he relaxed into the soft warmth of her kiss. He found that he liked how their lips molded together and how the spark of excitement tingled through his nerves.

Consumed in the moment, he let his one arm reach around her, his hand touching the delicate curve of her back. His other hand came forward to shut down the microphone on his lapel because he felt his brothers didn't need to be eavesdropping during this part of the mission. This moment had nothing to do with the actual mission, and it was personal, which meant that Dusty wanted to enjoy it selfishly.

After a few moments, Cerina pulled gently back and found that her hands had snaked their way around his neck. She dared to trace her fingers down the front of his jacket and pull it open, working it over his shoulders.

Dusty hesitated once more at this new development, and he moved to take a step backwards. Cerina paused long enough to kiss him again, and this time Dusty decided to relent the jacket. He moved his arms through the sleeves and then he brought his hands around her waist. He tilted towards her, taking in the sensations of the kiss for all it was worth. He was fairly certain he would never know what it was again and found it was a much more enjoyable experience than what the Kaminoans presented it to be in their flash-training.

Continuing to remain tangled in their embrace, Cerina slowly led Dusty to the bed of the apartment, and he paused as she turned him, the back of his legs bumping lightly against the mattress. He gently broke the kiss with Cerina and held her a few inches from him, realizing that the opportunity she wanted to truly give him was something the Kaminoans had never taught and the GAR would never teach. She wanted to give him something that would remind him he was a man – a human – who should be allowed to know the same basic pleasures as any other human in the galaxy.

Looking into her eyes and feeling the warmth of her body in his hands, Dusty knew he shouldn't do this. He knew that his brothers were waiting for him and that they had probably gone into panic mode the moment he shut down the comlink. He never planned to shut it down for longer than a minute or two, just long enough so that no one would think it was anything other than interference. Besides, he now had the information that the Republic needed, the confirmation they sought so they could issue the order to send in Crimson to finish off Nusset. It was imperative that Dusty get the holochip that Cerina had given him to his superiors immediately.

Then, he thought about what Cerina told him about a moment in time, something to remember. She had already given him so much that he understood more now than he had before he dressed up as some civvie.

He thought about what his false personality of Elig Munot would do if he were faced with the predicament of a beautiful woman before him and an empty bed behind him. And, at that moment, Dusty decided Elig was a civilian who had nothing to lose, nothing to fear, and if Dusty's superiors wanted him to be Elig Munot, then he would continue to be this civilian personality for a little while longer. After all, he was only following the orders he was given. It just happened those orders could bend into the situation he was within.

Dusty brought his lips to Cerina's and decided that if she wanted to give Elig Munot a night to remember, then he would continue to portray this civilian man and know what it was like to be normal. He was going to seize the opportunity before him and be a human man, the one thing the Kaminoans had never allowed any of them to experience.


	6. Epilogue

_Disclaimer_: I make no money, and I only write about what I enjoy. Crimson Squad, Cerina Browlin, Reone, Gan Pohin, and the opening segment quotes are mine. Arlington Zey and Bardan Jusik belong to Karen Traviss. George Lucas owns everything else.

**Epilogue**

_RC-1168 (Dusty) was out of communication for two hours and thirty-eight minutes. He denies ever turning off the comlink, and we have nothing but dead air in that time. I hesitated to do an extraction because we knew from our eavesdropping that Cerina Browlin was the only chance we had to find Barl Nusset and his plans. It was a difficult call to make, but the risk had resulted in a satisfactory ending to the mission_.  
Excerpt from the report submitted by RC-1155 (Gath) after the Denon Mission

**The City of Sha'ye on the Planet Denon  
723 Days ABG**

I had heard about the death of Barl Nusset, and I was surprised that it happened only a couple days after my encounter with the cloned man who I had the privilege of…entertaining. I had hoped from the moment we went our separate ways that the man I knew as Elig Munot had survived. I never asked for his true name on the night of our meeting, and I knew better than to ask for his rank and number or for any further communication after we parted. It was obvious to me when he looked so dramatically different from Jango that he was protecting himself as well as my identity.

Reone had proven his or her worth again, and the master of illusion that such a being was had advised me that no one thought any differently of the date I shared that night of the meeting. What kind of species Reone is I will never know for he or she has not even entrusted me with such a secret. I also respected Reone's privacy and never asked how the information on Barl Nusset had been acquired, but I suspect that Reone probably had used his or her illusionary skills at some point to infiltrate Nusset's lair and obtain that crucial knowledge.

The disguised clone I met that night was also easily overlooked as just another passing fancy of mine. I suppose having a reputation for being hard to please romantically still comes in handy at times. Those amongst me think I'm nothing more than a woman who refuses to settle down. Let them believe that because I can work such arrangements to my advantage should I ever need to do so again.

Denon now has a small garrison of clones stationed here at the insistence of our leader who wished to keep us protected from the Separatists. I've always made sure to express my thanks to those cloned men when I pass by them on the streets or in the various tourist locations as I go about my daily routines.

I know that Jango thought of those cloned men as nothing more than a business arrangement he chose to partake within, but a small piece of him remains in every one of the clones. Sometimes when I see one of those soldiers without his helmet on, I catch that tiny twist at the corner of his mouth, the wry smile Jango gave when he saw the irony in something. At other times, I'd hear a particularly accented word when a cloned man speaks, and I hear Jango's voice or laughter. Occasionally, I can get close enough to one of them, and I see him inhale more noticeably whenever I wear Jango's favorite perfume.

I also notice that they are a refined and polite group of men, referring to all civilians as "Sir" or "Ma'am," and they try not to overstep any boundaries where civilians are concerned. They also have an innocence about them, a wonder in their eyes at so much of the everyday occurrences we civilians take for granted. However, I have seen more than once that they are so ingrained with their training and their sense of duty that it takes a mere fraction of a second for them to stand at attention or fall into a defensive posture.

The man in the guise of Elig Munot didn't have the opportunity to teach me much that night about clones, but the one thing I did quickly observe was that they have incredible appetites. I had begun to think that if would have offered for him to try every dish in the _Heart of Sha'ye_, he would have. Knowing now that it's the increased metabolism due to the clones' accelerated aging, I have made it my private agenda to donate various foods of texture and substance once a week to this garrison and deliver it personally. In contrast to conventional soldiers, these cloned men don't receive care packages from loved ones at home, and I feel it's up to me to give them something to encourage their efforts in a seemingly endless war.

Unlike my times with Jango and that night with Elig, though, I don't plan to use the skills I had perfected in my past life. I have come to accept the identity of Cerina Browlin, and I think using her to provide charity has given me a new perspective on my second chance at life. I have come to realize that I may have lost Jango, but I am more privileged than ever to see how he continues to live on.


End file.
